To tell you the truth, I wouldn’t know love if it shat me in the face. Pretty sure love wouldn’t do that, though, if I’ve understood it correctly. Unless that’s something you would ask for specifically. I’m not here to judge, but maybe consider the risk of e. coli or pink eye before you do that without a mask on? I mean, they certainly don’t do that in any romantic comedies I’ve seen. Probably more of a Jane Austen thing, perhaps? I digress.
You might be thinking by this point, ‘why on earth would she write about a topic she knows nothing about’? Well, regardless of the obvious fact that I know very little about it, love has always fascinated me. It’s one of those things you’re conditioned into thinking that by some miracle you will one day find. “The one” and all that shit.
It’s not that I’m incapable of feeling things. I’m lucky enough to have nephews, and it is the unconditional love I have for them, something that manifested instantly and quite frankly knocked the breath out of me, that is the reason that I am starting to think that romantic love can manifest in the same way. Not since my grandad was still among us have I felt such compassion for another human being and not questioned whether or not it’s reciprocal, because it does. Not. Matter. You shouldn’t have to search for it or work on it – it just is.
Romantically, I’ve been in a couple of serious (for me maybe a little too serious) relationships, but they were all with the wrong person. Even though I care deeply about these people – not in a romantic way – to this day, we were never meant to be together like that. What’s more, I do not care for the thing I become once in a relationship; needy, jealous, anxious, I feel suffocated when they reciprocate and distraught to the point of desperation when they don’t. I also somehow try to become the person they want, so what I like or want no longer matters – including my friends. I can only have one person in my life at a time, ta very much.
I also think that someone with severe mental issues should be very careful when it comes to letting someone in. I’ve always felt as if entering into a relationship, especially when I know that my OCD is coming with me, would be very selfish. But I want to be proven wrong here. Maybe the right person will actually be able to handle me, even at my most me of times.
So, I found a book a while back. Turns out the brilliant Kerry Cohen, PSYD, LPC, has written a book called Crazy for You. Mesmerised by the title alone and thinking it was another autobiographical book like Loose Girl, I pressed the purchase button, only to find that it’s a psychoeducational guide for ‘breaking the spell of sex and love addiction’.
And so it remained at the top of my to read list until I felt like I was strong enough to look some of my harder truths in the eye. And here we are, I’ve brought Dr Cohen with me on my beach holiday, to find out how I am going to change my perspective a little bit. Not if, how.
It was a good thing I waited. Had you asked me to do something that would entail caring for my own wellbeing just a year ago, I would have told you to fuck off. Especially when it comes to this love thing, that’s haunted me for as long as I can remember.
I once received a chain letter (an actual pen and paper letter, real old school, folks) while I was still in school, that told me I was going to be unlucky in love for the rest of my life, lest I put this burden upon another unsuspecting victim. Filled with rage and hormones, I ripped the thing apart and dropped it to the floor, stomping on it as if it were on fire, before I ran to class Although, once I had sat down, my OCD started screaming at me, anxiety pulling me apart and telling me that I had to retrieve it and fulfil this prophecy before it was too late. Yet, when I got back outside, the letter had disintegrated in the rain and I thought I was doomed. FUCK CHAIN LETTERS.
Anyway. Doomed, blah-blah-blah, story of my life. Back to the book and one of the first things that really resonated with me:
Emotional wounds are the deep, stubborn beliefs we have about ourselves, which were needed inside us by our relationships with our parents or caregivers and by traumas we’ve experienced (Cohen, 2021, p. 34)
Now, any semblance of love I received as a child was conditional. I was a difficult child, they told me, so I had to change in order to be worthy of any special treatment, such as not being shouted at or pinched so hard I thought I was going to have to explain the bruse at school, or indeed receive any praise.
I can’t tell you how many times I have thought that I am simply unlovable. I mean, if your own parents have realised how shit you are… It turns out, shockingly, that only experiencing conditional love, as opposed to unconditional love, can make you think that you don’t deserve being loved just by being yourself. That you need to do something special in order to qualify for it.
So in a relationship – friendships as well, because of course I can’t be any old friend, I have to be the best – I go out of my way to give gifts, write lovely notes, cook a shit tonne of food and bake cakes no one ever wanted, hell, I’ll even put on a dress and wear high heels just so you won’t think I’m not doing everything in my power not to lose you.
Cohen goes on to explain how an understanding of what your emotional wounds are and where they are coming from is a useful tool in finding enough compassion for yourself to actually want to help yourself.
The book is filled with thorough explanations and reflection exercises for you to really get something out of the material. She writes with compassion and brevity, yet with enough detail so that you understand that there’s a spectrum and that you are not alone in being on it. You can’t help but feel that she cares. You even realise that maybe you’re not doomed after all.
Read the book if this applies to you, or share this post with a friend you think deserves a bit of unconditional love in their life. I will include the link to the book again below, right next to a link to a Type O Negative song that might resonate with us love junkies. See you next week!
Gonzo With the Wind 